Story of a Freed Owl
by MaxRideNut
Summary: A white owl avian experiment looks back on her past. And might turn it in for her digital movie making class. Probably K-plus, but I'll rate it T just in case. WARNING! Third book spoiler! NINTH CHAPTER UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I've had this plot bunny floating around for a while now, so thanks to an IM friend (who just doesn't know when to stop), I finally kicked my lazy butt into gear. As much as it was annoying, having someone constantly berate me for not updating was good for me. But since I still don't know where I'm going with any of my other stories (Writer's Block is the worst disease in the history of bad diseases) I made a new one from the great rambling space of my mental abyss. And my favorite part of this: IT'S MY FIRST EVER TOTAL 1ST POV STORY! YAY!!!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the ideas of recombinate DNA experiments, secret labs, or Erasers. And virtual cookies to anyone who can PM me a full list of all the little bitty references I put in there. There were quite a lot, and several were accidental. Then I may copy-and-paste that list into my disclaimer along with the alias of the person who figured them all out. SO first read this as a story, then read it as a treasure hunt when ya get bored later.**

"Alright class, settle down."

As my peers make their way to their seats, I can't help but think of my past. It's hard to believe I'm here right now. If someone had told me nine years ago that I would one day have a normal name, go to a normal school, and live a normal life, I would have thought they were out of their mind.

"Roll call. Jeremy Andrews."

"Here."

"Tiffany Amika."

"Present."

I was born in a science lab. Or rather, I was created. We (the experiments) were kept in cages and tested VERY painfully on a regular basis. The scientists who made us had a good old time messing with our DNA, and decided that since we were not 100% human, we were little more than lab rats.

"Arnold Arksson."

"I'm here."

I was experiment number JO0139XT84A77HC. Talk about a mouthful. Mostly I was referred to as Subject T84A, or just plain That One (insert pointing finger here). Around three years old I figured out that the "A77HC" meant that I was the seventy-seventh experiment of the Combination "Avian-Human." That's right. Avian. As in **bird**.

"Stephanie Bern."

"She's absent today, Mrs. Jonas. Got sick."

"Thank you, Stephen." Wouldn't you know it that where most classes have one teacher's pet each, this class has a matching set. Twins.

Under my extra-large hoody are two ginormas feathered white wings. And if you looked at one of my X-rays or CAT scans, you'd see that I also have hollow bones, two stomachs, and several other avian traits. And before you ask, yes I **can** fly. That was the whole point of creating me.

"Billy Bessett."

"My name is not BILLY! It's ROB!" I put a stray lock of 'blonde' hair behind my ear and roll my eyes. Rob and his name issues.

"Fine. Rob. Happy?"

"Yes ma'am."

Unfortunately, with the ability to fly comes the super metabolism needed to make the energy to lift my ninety-four pounds off the ground, and keep it there. Of course, I don't tell that to any of the other kids when they ask me about my three trays of lunch in the cafeteria. Not like they would believe me anyhow.

"Frii Dowel."

Of course I'm here; I'm in the freaking front row! "Present."

Yes, I know my name is weird. But when you say it out loud, it fits me perfectly! White snow owl, no longer in a cage. Freed Owl. Frii Dowel. Personally, I think it's amazing that no one else has made the connection yet.

When I was about seven years old (few of us know exactly how old we are) one of the older birdkids managed to use weak telekinesis to swipe a cage key card from one of the Erasers. Erasers are basically experiments with high privileges, mainly freedom and access. They are Combination Lupine-Human, and can change from one form to the other. They were created for the sole purpose of **Erasing** the lives of "failed" (i.e. not powerful enough, or not obedient enough) experiments. Torturing the "successful" ones just comes as a bonus.

"Doming Daniels"

"I'm here." That kid is really…indescribable. He always wears a T-shirt that says "I live next door to Voldemort" and spends a lot of time looking in a pocket mirror practicing a growl-cackle sound.

"James Jonas."

"Mom, you drove me here this morning."

"I know dear, but I have to treat you equal to all my other students. Say, 'here,' please."

I join with the other students' chuckling as he whines, "But mo-ommmmm!"

"No buts. Say it."

"Here."

Anyway, the birdgirl used the card to open her cage, and then mine and another birdkid's cage. I hadn't learned how to fly yet (few experiments live long enough to use their "gifts") so she grabbed me and the three of us went crashing through a barred window. Consider the momentum it took to break through steel bars, and remember that our bones are thin and they didn't feed us much. Not fun, or easy. So we got as far from there as possible, as fast as possible.

"Emily J."

"I'm here!"

"Emily K."

"Me too!" The Emilys have way to much energy for their own good. Goods… Uh… Grammar is lost when it comes to the Emilies.

"Ashley King."

…

"Absent. Dori Lionas."

"Here."

Eagle Eye (the birdgirl who rescued us) bought a camping trailer. Dark Wing (the other birdkid) asked her where she got the money, but all she said was, "Karma." Whatever that means. Well, I know what the word means now that I've been in a normal school (still can't get over that) for three years, but I still don't get how karma got her a hundred bucks. Or how it convinced the owners to sell their "motor-home" to a fourteen year old girl dressed in really dirty, really ripped clothes. I'm betting she used mind control. I'd heard of experiments getting big powers like that. Not that Eagle Eye ever told us she had a second power.

"Jake Meyers."

"Present."

"Tori Zimmers."

BANG! "I'm here, I'm here!" With the number of times the door handle has slammed into the wall, I'm surprised the black board hasn't fallen off yet.

"Late again, I see. One more tardy and you're in for a suspension, Mr. Zimmers." Oooo, she called him by his last name! He in trou-ble! Oh, **snap!** I almost lost myself there. I'm beginning to really think like a normal human teenager! Gotta watch myself…

"Yes, Mrs. Jonas. Sorry."

"Hmm…"

**AN: Kay, ya, that isn't really a cliff hanger, but I figured it's better not to have a cliffie considering my track record... REVIEW PLEASE!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here's chapter 2, I'm about to start on chapter 3, and chapter 5 is almost done. If you found nothing confusing about that sentence, read it again. Feel free to critique me on this; I typed it real fast and checked it even faster.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of Erasers, recombinate DNA experiments, or enchiladas. I also do not own Spiderman, Bed Knobs and Broomsticks, Burger King, or the term "eats like a bird". Though I have argued with that term a gazillion times. Cuz heck, my venus fly trap eats more than I do.**

"Okay class, now that we are all here," Mrs. Jonas sends a meaningful glance in Tori's direction, "It is time to begin planning your final project for the semester. You're assignment is to make a small film, at least three minutes long, centering around courage and/or heroics. It can be about real life heroes, like firemen or policemen, or it can be about comic book super heroes. Either way, it needs to have some form of every affect we learned about in over the course of this semester. Sounds effects, color and movement effects; the whole enchilada."

Stephen raises his hand. "Mrs. Jonas, I've been doing some experiments on my own with effects not done in class. Could I use some of those, too?"

Of _course_. I mean, what _else_ would you expect from the teacher's pet? I've got a bet running with Tiff that he's going to finish this semester with at least a hundred and twenty percent average. He hasn't turned down a single extra credit opportunity since he and his sister transferred here mid-second quarter.

"Absolutely. But don't pay so much attention to those extra things that you forget the actual requirements." Duh. Like he would.

But at least this project won't be too difficult for me. So far I've been having to do all my projects the long and hard way, like normal people, so that I didn't draw any attention to myself. But with my power of mental "programming" and some kick-butt memories, a project with a bunch of special effects about super heroes shouldn't be hard. At all.

"If we make a video about super heroes and super villains, can we make the villains the protagonists?" What kind of a question is that?

"Doming, a villain would be an antagonist. You can try to make a film in which you hope the viewers will side with the villain's cause, but he would still be an antagonist." Did I mention that Stephen is also the top student in English class, as well?

Anyways, I can take mental images and sounds, and put them into a computer as easily as any other person can hum the tune to their favorite song. I think of what I want my video to be like, sort of "push" it towards a computer, and that's it. Instant codes, instant finished project. And because this is the semester final, everybody would already be expecting a really good film anyways. So all I need is to figure out _which_ images, etc, I want to make my video out of. I've got a lot stored up there.

"If there are no more questions, begin your planning stages. You have over a week to do this assignment, so don't be afraid to really think it through before you start working on the videos themselves. You don't want to run into a problem later due to poor planning and have to restart with only a few days left." Well, considering my codes will just invent themselves in whatever way is easiest, that's not going to be much trouble for me. I have seven days out of eight to do my planning. Bring it on!

* * *

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZT! Once again, I wonder why we don't have _bells_ for period passing. It's like a digital alarm clock on steroids, only deeper and louder, and it drones on for almost ten seconds longer then the "blinking" buzz of a morning alarm. And it doesn't have a snooze button. Hmmm…Maybe it's to wake up the kids who fell asleep during the more boring classes…

I pack up my drawings and head for the door. I have a total of nine comic-strips of possible videos that I could us as my semester project, but none of them seem quite right. They all just tell a little bit too much for my comfort, or wouldn't be "realistically un-realistic" enough in a normal human's eyes. Even a talented high school student with a semester of video making under her belt wouldn't be able to make morphing werewolves look that real without causing suspicion of help from professional CGI guys. And I have a feeling the ones that show kids in cages would be like digital neon signs screaming, "YO! Mad scientist people! Your escaped experiment is HERE!"

Stuffing my sketches into my locker, I grab my lunch bag and make my way to the cafeteria. I try to save a little money by bringing some of my lunch to school myself, and then filling the rest of my stomach with cafeteria food, rather than buying it all.

"I can't believe she forgot my name AGAIN!" And now for the weekly eye rolling, sense knocking, idiotic argument session.

"Rob, do we have to have this conversation _every _Monday? She gets a new roster each week, and you've been called Billy since before you even had a school career. Get over it already!"

Rob scowls and kicks the now very-dented trash can by the cafeteria door. "I don't even know how Billy became a nickname for Robert in the first place! My cousin's name is William, and he prefers Billy. So why am _I_ the one who gets stuck with it?"

"Because Will was born two years after you." Tiffany strides up, carrying her almost empty lunch tray. Normal humans would say she 'eats like a bird,' but I know from experience she eats WAY less than a bird. "Robert, Rob, Bob, Bobby, Billy. I've seen your baby pictures, and you did not look like a Robert, Rob, or Bob back then. Then after six or seven years, Billy became a habit. Stop making such a fuss!"

In response to her comment, my other companion just mumbles under his breath and makes way for the lunch line. I follow Tiff to the Outcast Table, as it is known among the more popular students. For those of us who actually eat there, it's where the friendless make friends. Rob sits there because most of the student body picks on him about his math grades; Tiffany sits there because it's the only place where people don't call her The Shrimp; and I sit there because the outcasts are the only students who aren't snobs. Seriously. If enough people tease/torment you, then you learn not to tease other people. The unaccepted are the most accepting group of people you'll ever meet. Though whether that acceptance reaches far enough to include mutant messed-up-DNA freaks, I have yet to find out. Not that I'm going to rush to discover that particular thing. Not on purpose, anyways.

"So, got any good ideas for your movie final?" She asks.

I shrug. "Not so far." I take a seat, and pull out my hamburgers. Working at Burger King has its rewards.

"I'm thinking of making a super hero tournament. I'd have to make it mostly a cartoon, of course, but I could still use the green screen effect to put them in a stadium or something." Oh, yeah, the Spiderman version of Bed Knobs and Broomsticks. Very courageous. But, hey, it's her video; she can make it how she wants it.

"Sup, gals!"

"Hi, Tim," I reply. Tim Matthews was the original Outcast. He skipped a grade, then got held back three times. Nobody really knows why, but what we do know is that if he sees somebody get kicked out of their group, or just never make it into a group, he brings them to our group. Tim's probably the only reason I have any friends at all, even without broadcasting my bigger freakiness.

"Did either of you catch this week's Biology homework? I fell asleep listening to Mr. Carp drone on…"

As the conversation turns toward the regular tenth grade core classes, I get up and get in the lunch line, which doesn't seem to have shortened much in the past ten minutes. Might as well zone out for a bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again, I don't own very much. I own Frii, I own Tiffany, and I own a TV. Everything else is owned by other people.**

**Update: Thanks to a reviewer, I realized that some readers may not have read the whole series (as published so far) so I am now adding a warning to my original author's note for this chapter! I included a spoiler for the third Max Ride book in this chapter! The spoiler has a few pieces of major events from the third book, but I changed it and added to it, so it might be considered semi-AU. If you've read through or past the third book, continue reading the story. It'll be old news to you. If you haven't...the choice is up to you.**

_Click!_ "…get the be-e-est of both worlds—"

_Click!_ "…am I? Tell me! Where do I come fr—"

_Click! _"Nefertiti could have been buried with—"

_Click! _"This is your international news report…" The TV remote lands on the floor now that Tiffany has found the channel she was looking for.

I roll my eyes. "Tiff, we're supposed to be doing homework."

"I know, but my cousin called yesterday telling me to watch the news because something crazy was going to be investigated. And he rarely shows any interest in ANYTHING!"

"Fine, fail Algebra class then."

Tiffany sighs and picks the remote back up. "…illegal DNA testing facil—" _Click!_

"Wait wait wait! Turn that back on!!"

Tiff stares at me like I've grown a second head (I'm hoping that's just a saying, but where I come from…I'll check the mirror later), but she turns the television back on.

"…thousands of kids around the world read this blog that was supposedly written by one of these genetic experiments, and followed his advice. Over fifty company buildings globally received various forms of protests, ranging from marches to violent attacks. Several of these events were stopped by police units, but when one attack leveled a castle wall in Germany, the nation's army was forced to intervene. They were shocked, however, to discover that inside the courtyard was a battle between humanoid children, cyborg-like wolves, and strange creatures that resembled monsters from fantasy stories. A teenage girl with falcon wings and a preteen negro girl with wings resembling those of hawks carried a woman several hundred feet into the air, and dropped her. But before the woman hit the ground, the bird-kids retrieved her and carried her to one of the army trucks. They forced her to admit crimes including murder, kidnapping, illegal testing and torture of children and adults, and world destruction plans. She has been identified as Marian Janssen, the Director of Itexicorp. When the chaos finally calmed down, reports were sent out and the other company buildings were also searched for evidence of similar activities. Of the hundred and twelve buildings belonging to Itex and smaller branches, one hundred and four were discovered to contain secret testing facilities and/or large quantities of weapons, and one hundred and two contained rooms filled with children, adults, and animals in cages. Many of these captives had obviously been subjected to genetic experimentation, and others told of their would-be fates as target-prey for the carnivorous experiments that would be training to hunt. Itexicorp has been shut down, and there are immense efforts to search through the files and hopefully reunite the families of the kidnapped children. But this is proving futile for a large number of the captives, who are orphans or simply have no records found so far. Many of them have been found to have dates written on the backs of their necks, and though it is unknown what they mean, the experiments who are able to communicate are absolutely sure that they do not bode well. We'll keep you updated as best as we can."

I stare at the screen for several more minutes, barely registering that they have switched over to sports. They've been caught… The experiments…are all_ free!!_ The scientists can't hurt us anymore! I don't have to worry about being hunted down and shoved back into my cage! ...At least not by Itex anyways.

Tiff is just as amazed as I am, or probably more, considering this is her first time hearing about it. "Woah… This is like…science fiction books come to life! It's…not possible!"

I snort, "If it wasn't possible, it would be playing on Disney channel, not the news."

"Oh, and you act like you're not surprised." She rolls her eyes at me. "What, did you know this was gonna happen? Are you _psychic_ or something? Had a vision of a bunch of creepy people in lab coats screaming 'It's ALIVE'?" Chuckling at her joke, she turns off the TV and opens her math book. I try not to show her how close her joking guess was to the truth. I'm not psychic, and I had no idea that Itex would get caught, but she was right on one thing. The existence of DNA-experimentation _isn't_ unbelievable to me—because I've already lived through it. I _have_ seen a bunch of scary scientists playing around with test tubes and surgery and electrical shocking of their barely-living experiments. I still have nightmares about that place.

Then it suddenly hits me: Itex has been caught; everyone knows about their crimes. If I make my movie out of my memories, Itex can't come and get me, and the humans won't question my inspiration. I can do _whatever I want!_

**K, that might seem a bit rushed, but I got a little excited writing it... And I know a good number of people will probly notice a few things wrong with certain stuff, but hold on a bit longer. Things will be explained in due time. But still, feel free to point things out and make suggestions. You might catch something I missed. Plus I enjoy hearing from all my wonderful readers!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Here we are at chapter 4. So far, this story ranks as Number 1 on my list of Most Often Updated Stories By Me. Not sure how long that will last, but for now I'm pretty proud of myself.**

**Disclamier: I don't own Itex, or the ideas of Erasers, magical creatures like centaurs/werewolves/unicorns/angels, and I do not own the song "Welcome to My Life".**

Okay, not really _anything_ I want. I still have the problems relating to realistic unreality, and I still have to make sure it's "obvious" that the movie isn't made from memories. Even though Itex can't hurt me (if the news can be trusted, which I'm assuming to be true) I still don't want scientists and zoologists finding me and going into "study the mutant freak" –mode. I highly value my freedom, thank you very much.

So now I'm sitting in my little stolen-tarp-thrown-over-a-tree-branch tent, staring at twelve comic strips held down by paper weight pebbles. I sold the camper last year. Too many memories. Too many ghosts waiting to jump out at me and tear my heart to shreds. Metaphorically, I think.

It's midnight, so I'm wide awake. I'll take a dose of sleeping pills around two a.m., and get just enough rest to stay awake through school. Being four-percent owl is hard when I have to have the day schedule of a human.

Over the past three days, I've scrapped six of my original nine plans, and made a bunch more. These are less likely to be very noticeable as beacons pointing toward an escaped experiment from the Alaskan facility, but they also seem very boring, and several are just plain nonsense. One involves using my imagination to get a video of a boy swearing to "destroy the horrid creatures that killed his parents" and then he goes into the woods and kills a werewolf. There's a difference between courage and idiocy. Nobody goes _looking_ to fight monsters like werewolves and Erasers. It's bad enough when _they_ come looking for _you_. Or me. So that's not gonna be it.

So far, the one I dislike the least (not that I like it the most—I don't like any of them, but with varying levels of distaste) comprises of me, with different colored eyes and a glowing halo, facing off against a red, glowing Eraser over the soul of some human. Yeah, that's just something that popped into my head while I studied for my World Cultures semester exam; an obscure chapter I happened to need to re-write my notes for was about various religions. The ideas of angels and demons are really weird, but it's a way that I could explain the white wings, and use the color- and light-altering effects. But it still doesn't feel right. I'm not sure if it's instincts or what, but I just don't think I should use this as my video. I need something…different.

* * *

"Frii! Frii, come here! You've GOT to check this out!" I blink slowly, and sit up straight in my chair. Looks like I fell asleep during study hall again. Ugh.

"What? Did one of the advance chemistry students put a slime bomb under Mr. Jet's desk again?" Not much happens in this class very often, so some of the more obnoxious kids tend to make it "less boring."

"No. But I found something even cooler on the internet! Come here!" Tiffany bounces in her seat, and it's hard to miss the energy reflected in her expression. She can really get herself worked up over the most random things.

I yawn, and go over to her. "What?" It appears she is on a video-sharing website, and the movie she's looking at is paused, with an angry looking black centaur on-screen.

"Check it!" She beams as she presses the Play button.

The centaur turns his head to the side, shining tears streaming down his face. Music starts playing.

_Do you ever feel like breakin' down?_

_Do you ever feel out of place?_

The camera zooms out, and the centaur looks at the many horses, and the few humans that surround him. One human taps a horse that she is using to pull her carriage, and another human whips the centaur.

_Like somehow you just don't belong,_

_And no one understands you?_

The centaur cries out and runs into a nearby forest. He lies down in a thicket, and his sobs rack his body.

_Do you ever wanna run away?_

_Do you lock yourself in you room_

_With the radio on turned up so loud_

_That no one hears you screaming?_

The centaur looks through the gaps in the bushes, glaring at a passing human.

_No, you don't know what it's like_

_When nothing feels alright._

_You don't know what it's like_

_To be like me!_

The centaur gets up, and gallops far way from the herds and villages. His fists tighten, and his face shows anger, depression, and determination. As he races through the forest, the camera pivots around his body, focusing on the many cuts, bruises, and scars he bears. Day turns to night as he continues on his journey.

_To be hurt,_

_To feel lost,_

_To be left out in the dark._

A unicorn passes near the centaur, a small humanoid being riding on her back. The rider sneers at the centaur, and the unicorn rears up, striking him in the knee. The centaur falls. The rider laughs as his mount steps over the centaur, nudging him hard with her hoof as she does so.

_To be kicked_

_When you're down,_

_To feel like you've been pushed around._

The centaur slowly stands up again, and limps forward a few paces. His silver tears fall hard and fast now, and no beings, magical or human, make any attempt to help him.

_To be on the edge of breakin' down,_

_And no one cares to save you._

_No you don't know what it's like._

_Welcome to my life—_

The music ends abruptly, and the video freezes at a picture of the centaur's clenched jaw.

"I can't get the school computer to load it any farther. Not sure why. But wasn't that cool?"

I shrug. "I guess. Did you have any reason for showing it me, other than that you think it's cool?" I yawn again. Stupid nocturnal genes.

"Well, I thought you might like it since, you know, most of the books you read are science fiction or fantasy. And you said you needed some inspiration for your DMM project."

"I said I had some inspiration but it would be hard to make a movie from it. I just need an idea on how to use the inspiration I have."

Tiff rolls her eyes at me. "Same difference. Just trying to help."

"Thanks anyway." I return to my desk and glance at the doodles I had started at the beginning of study hall. Nothing really unique from what I generally draw. A few "angels" with black, brown, and white wings; some lighting bolts, clouds, and other sky stuff; Erasers in various stages of transformation; a half-finished robot…

I continue to sketch in the plasma gun attached to the robot's right arm, but after a couple minutes I put down my pencil. I can't get my mind off the subjects of my past. That video really didn't help keep my memories buried in the bottom of the mental abyss I call my brain. While I was watching it, it didn't really bring any deep emotion or thoughts to the front of my mind. But once I woke up a bit more, I keep noticing the similarities between my life and that centaur's. I'm a freak. I don't belong with humans, or with birds, because I'm neither; I'm something in between. I spend most of my life running or hiding from anyone who might know what I am. Everyone takes joy in hurting me, or just doesn't care enough to try not to hurt me. Even when I pretend to be human, my life sucks. I just can't get around it. I've always been a mutant freak of nature and I always will be.

I sigh. Self-esteem, I introduce you to the floor.

**Yes, I do have a tendency to incorperate songs into my stories. I just happen to get most of my inspiration from songs, and I think in pictures, so when I listen to those songs I end up thinking of movie-like sequences rather than huge stories. Which is why I have so many songfics and why the little movie up there is a songfic. Please don't hate me for it. I'd very much like to hear from all my wonderful readers and reviewers!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ladies and gentlemen, I give you ...(drum roll)... CHAPTER FIVE! (trumpets) Thank you, thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "One Girl Revolution" or YouTube or Erasers or robot-Erasers (Mr. P called them Flyboys) or "Lord of the Rings" or that nasty drink at the end. That sludge belongs to the monster under my brother's bed. Or at least that's who my brother blamed it on. Yick. Uh, anyways...**

"Mrs. Jonas, can my movie be a music-based film?" I look up from my computer with mild interest. I've been clicking in random places and pretending to type since last Thursday. Just because I can make a full video in less than fifteen seconds doesn't mean I'm going to bring it to the attention of the humans.

"Ashley, I might be able to better answer that question if I had a little more information. What is it you are trying to do?"

Ashley lowers her hand and turns her monitor so that the teacher can see it more easily. I twist around in my chair to get a better look.

"I want to play a song by one of my favorite bands and make my movie's events tie into the lyrics of the song." She pulls up a computer MP3, playing a thirty-second clip of her video at the same time as part of a song.

Drums play as a group of girls suit up for something. One puts on armor, another hauls on knee-high boots that match her tank-top's color, and a third hides a sword under her cape as she pulls the hood up to hide her face.

_I wear a disguise;_

_I'm just your average Jane._

_The "super" doesn't stand for model,_

_But that doesn't mean I'm plain._

A fourth teen enters, wearing thick glasses and a T-shirt that says "Mathletes" and holding a ninja star.

_If all you see is how I look,_

_You miss the super chick within;_

The camera zooms out as the girls charge several men with huge guns.

_And I christen you Titanic—_

_Under-estimate and swim! _

Ashley stops the video right as three of the six men are disarmed and thrown onto the pavement.

"So can I do it?"

"I guess so, as long as you put in a comment giving credit to the band that plays the song. And the project is still due this Wednesday, so I suggest you finish the video and the required visual and audio effects before you put all your attention into the song. I can't extend the due date for you if it's not finished." Ashley nods, and Mrs. Jonas walks over to help Jake.

So, we can make music videos? I know some people do that on YouTube for fun, like that centaur video, but I haven't really considered doing it for my semester project. Even if I did do a music-based movie, it would be really hard to get it to fit any of my memories in a way that would make sense. Plus, I don't know that many songs anyways. I spend my money on clothes, food, and other absolute necessities—radios and CD's, not so much. The project is due in two days, and I'm already having enough trouble planning for my video as it is. I don't have time to listen to hundreds of songs, pick a favorite, and then try to find images to match it.

"How is your video coming along, Frii?"

Jumping slightly in surprise, I quickly shove a grainy clip of a morphing Eraser into the computer as the teacher walks up behind me. "Fine."

"What is your film going to be about?" she asks as she bends down to get a better look.

I shrug, and add a few shots of Eagle Eye to the beginning before Mrs. Jonas can realize that I'm only twenty seconds into the project. "Werewolves."

"That sounds very interesting. I can't wait to see the finished thing." I let out a quiet breath of relief as she walks away. That was close. I'd almost forgotten that because of my pretending to work, people expect me to have most of my video done. I'd almost gotten caught. Gotta be more careful…

* * *

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZT! Stupid buzzer-bell.

"Okay, don't forget about the semester final on Friday! Study hard; it's worth a quarter of your grade. I'd rather not have to give you the info all over again over the summer. I finally have enough money to take a trip to Florida with my family—_please_ don't spoil it for me! Class dismissed."

Everyone gathers up their Algebra textbooks and notebooks, and apparently I'm not the only one who was doodling for most of the period. Tiff comes up and grabs my sketches before I can put them in my binder.

"Wow! Cool werewolf! Then again, your werewolves are always really good. What's this one?" I zip my binder and shove it into my backpack before glancing at the specific drawing she's pointing to.

"An angel flying in a thunderstorm." Dark Wing was able to absorb lightning without getting hurt really badly…sometimes. He once flew around in a storm while I hid so that all the stupid robot-Erasers would get electrocuted by following him. I figured out how it worked not long after I started eighth grade: the robots were mostly made of metal, and apparently lightning is attracted to metal. I blink away a tear at the memory, and shrug on my backpack.

"You're always so good at drawing the expressions for angels and werewolves! I can see the anger in the dark angel's eyes; is that why he's making lightning and stuff?"

"He's not making lightning. He's just flying. In a thunderstorm. See you tomorrow, Mr. Johnsson."

"Bye, Frii," my teacher waves absentmindedly.

Tiffany continues to question me as we head out the door. "Well, if he's not making the lightning, then why does he look so angry? Why is he flying in a storm?"

I throw my hand in the air exasperatedly. "He just is! I don't write stories for all my pictures! I just draw stuff; it has no meaning whatsoever!" …Well, that's mostly true. I _don't_ make stories for the pictures. The stories are already there. I just don't like telling them to people.

"Jeez, calm down! I was just asking a question!" Rolling her eyes, she hands me back my notebook. "So, are we meeting at my house for homework again today?"

"No," I shake my head. "My parents need me at home tonight, and I'd rather not get in trouble for being late." Actually, I need to get home and get some major brainstorming done for my video. And I need to cool off a bit. Too much stress can mess up a bird girl's brain.

"For what?"

"Uh—" I don't get a chance to finish my excuse, because Rob shows up and interrupts me.

"Hey guys! Guess what!" He doesn't give us a chance to guess, just continuing to talk at a speed equivalent to the Emilies on a sugar-high. "My dad finally set up our new flat-screen TV! So I was thinking we could do a movie jam tonight! I call Lord of the Rings!"

I take a second to register his words, then shake my head. "Sorry, I need to get home early today. My parents will go berserk if I don't get there, like, right now." I quicken my pace, hoping they'll drop the subject. No such luck.

"Well, if you can't come over to either of our houses, then we should go to yours!" I freeze, then turn back to face them.

"Tiff, trust me, you should just forget it and go home. I've told you what my family is like; you do NOT want to come over to my house!" Okay, that's technically not a lie. I _have_ told them about my relatives, and they really _don't_ need to see where I live. The part I lied about is what I told them my home life is like. I don't have a large family. I don't even have parents.

"Frii, come on! You're family can't be all that bad! Even if it is loud, chaotic, and huge, you could still introduce us! I mean, I have over twenty cousins; I've gone to enough family reunions to be totally immune to that kind of stuff." Tiffany crosses her arms.

Rob joins in the argument: "Yeah. We've been friends for almost two years now! You've seen every inch of my house, and you know just about everything about Tiff and me. But we don't know anything about you! What's so bad that you have to keep so many secrets?"

I clench my teeth. I do NOT need this! "Just drop it! You wouldn't understand!"

"What wouldn't we understand?" Rob looks at me like I'm talking in a different language. Maybe I am. I'm talking with a language called _experience_.

"Nothing! Just…Forget it!"

"Fine!" Rob spins on his heels and stomps toward the parking lot and his dad's car.

I turn and run down the sidewalk, toward the edge of town. I'll hide in some alley where they won't find me, and then I'll fly home after dark. This far north, dusk comes around six this time of year. I've only got an hour or so to wait.

* * *

Okay, so I'm not in an alley anymore. I snuck in the back door of a fast food restaurant, and I've been waiting for sun down in here. I bought a coffee to prevent myself from being kicked out as a non-customer, but I'm not drinking it that much. I've gone dumpster diving for dinner before, so I'm really not all that picky when it comes to putting stuff in my stomach, but I do have minor preferences. Like beverages that don't have shrimp pieces and bugs floating in it. "Coffee with sugar" is a pretty common order, but what I'm holding is more like infected sludge with coffee poured on top. I'd throw it away, but I have to be holding it to stay in here. So it appears I have fungus, tiny corpses, and that stench coming from the men's room for company tonight. Joy.

After sitting here a long half hour, I sigh and get out of my booth. This isn't worth staying another forty minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: K, so this isn't as long as I planned. But never fear! I am working on chapter numero seven-o so by the time you finish reading this chapter, I shall hopefully be done with the next one! Oh, and to help you understand what's going on here: **

**It's in Tiff's point of view. In case anybody reading this is a newbie and doesn't know what POV stands for.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Frankenstein or his monster. Or beer. I have bunches of empty beer cans cuz I like to recycle aluminum that I find left in ditches and stuff, but not the actual beverages themselves. Always recycle, people! It's good for the planet! ...Plus, some recycling places pay you for the stuff, which is always a fun time. Anywho...**

POV Tiffany

Wow. Talk about a blow off. I wonder what's so bad about our wanting to meet Frii's family that she had to get so angry! And why did Rob suddenly get so mad about it? She's been this secretive since we met her at the beginning of ninth grade. What's so different that he started getting annoyed _now?_

I sigh. So many questions. And so very few answers.

I glance toward the parking lot, and then shake my head. There's no catching Rob to talk to him; I can't chase down a car. Nope, no chance of that.

I start jogging in the direction Frii had gone. She's quite a bit more athletic than I am, but she'll probably slow down once she's out of hearing distance from the school. If there's something wrong, I'm going to do anything I can to help.

* * *

Okay, so maybe following Frii wasn't the best idea I've ever had… I think I might have missed a turn somewhere back there. Or made a turn that she didn't make. I'm in a part of town that I've never seen before. The buildings here are all poorly kept, at best. The paint is peeling or has already peeled away on most of the houses, and several have cracked walls and broken windows. This can't possibly be where Frii lives! This neighborhood is way too rundown, and the few people I've passed keep looking at me funny. I probably should get out of here; I don't think it would be very safe to keep walking around alone after dark…

* * *

Man, I'm in some deep crud right now. I glance at the muddy, cracked sidewalk. In maybe more ways then one.

I've tried tracing my path several times in an attempt to get back to school, so I could go home from there, but it just got me even more lost. I'd ask somebody for directions, or maybe borrow a cell phone or something, but there isn't anybody that I can see. It's like the whole street has been abandoned. I mean, I should probably be glad in that nobody's out here that can mug me or anything, but it's still really creepy. It looks like this half of the city has turned into a present-day ghost town.

"Psst!" I whirl about in confusion. "Hey, you! Girl!" Where…? "Over here!" I finally see an old woman sticking her head out her front door. Her eyes jump and sweep the area, searching for something, I don't know what. I glance around, but I don't see anything. Finally she focuses on me again.

"What are you doing outside this hour?" She asks me, as she returns to gazing about in what seems to be fright.

"Um, I'm kind of lost. I was looking for a friend, but… Uh, who are you again?"

Her eyes widen in surprise, like it should be obvious. "Night is a dangerous time. There is much to fear in the dark."

I look around again. Still just me and her. Not another soul in sight. "Like, gangs and burglars?"

"No! Monsters. Terrible monsters!" Oo-kayyy…"They look like people, but they are very dangerous! They have wings like angels, fangs like werewolves, and horns like buffalo!" Abruptly, she freeze, staring at me. Her voice wavers, "You are one of them aren't you!" Then she starts yelling at me! "Stay away! Leave me alone! Please don't hurt me!" **SLAM!**

Okay, now THAT was weird! You'd think the elderly would be the least likely candidates for superstitious insanity. I mean, do I seriously look anything like a winged werewolf with demon horns? And even if such things could exist, they obviously wouldn't look human with monstrous features like horns and wings. Sheesh! Werewolves are just the inventions of imaginative horror movie writers.

I shake my head and turn back to the street to continue on my way. But I halt at what I see down the road: a tall, hunched figure carrying some kind of pack in his right hand, his back _jerking around_ as if some large animal is trying to escape from under the giant black hoody. The person grunts as a huge object suddenly _ejects_ from the side of the hoody, and a second from the other side. The things move back and forth slowly, rhythmically, extending sideways until they total at least ten feet in length. Holy Frankenstein! That guy has WINGS!

My short, strange conversation with the old lady darts back into my mind, and I reflexively take a few steps backward—

Right onto a discarded beer can. CRICK-KA! Crud! Definitely NOT good!

The monster spins around to face me. "Tiffany?" What the-? How the heck-?

"No! How—where—?" He trips over his own feet, and crawls backward, skidding and slipping in the mud as he does so. "That's not—!"

Wait a minute! I know that voice! If my eyes weren't bugging out before, they most certainly are now! "**FRII?**"

**Ya now do you see why I stopped short? It just occurred to me that it would make a really interesting cliffie, which I have deemed safe to place since I've updated this story more times, and more often, than any other and STILL haven't lost my inspiration yet! YAY! Review, please! I'd love to hear from all my wonderful readers!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Here it is! The seventh chapter! I hope this is long enough for you! Read and review, please!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Frii, Tiffany, Ashley, the Twins, Dark Wing, and Eagle Eye. Everything else is somebody else's property. Especially Shakespeare's_ Hamlet_. *Shudders* That name is one of the biggest reasons I hate Literary Analysis class...**

_

* * *

"FRII?!?" Oh, no! Oh, no! No nono**no**! She SAW! In the name of all things edible, SHE **SAW! **_

_I scramble back a few more feet, but when she starts walking even closer to me, my brain finally blows up, and animalistic instincts take over. I turn onto my stomach and fling myself up into a running take off._

_"Frii, WAIT!" Not on your life! Not on __**my**__ life! I finally get enough air under my wings, and shove them down to get airborne. Up, down, up, down, breathe, up, down…_

* * *

I jerk up, gasping like a fish out of water. I do a quick 360. Tarp over my head, backpack-pillow nearly crushed on the ground, sweat soaking through my T-shirt, blonde hair plastered to my forehead. What I can see of the sky is just starting to turn dawn-grey. I release my white-knuckle grip on my dirty blanket.

I take a couple deep breaths, and rest my head in my hands. Stupid nightmares. I don't get enough sleep as it is. Bad enough I have nocturnal genes, but of course, I also have to get zero rest when I do manage to sleep. The universe officially hates me. I sigh. At least this one wasn't about getting experimented on or attacked by an army of Erasers with grenade launchers or machine guns. Being found out and having to disappear I can handle. It wouldn't be the first time. But still, not a fun thought.

I check my watch. Almost four o'clock A.M. I generally get up around six-thirty, so that I could shower at a trailer park and get to school at quarter to eight. I have time to snooze.

* * *

_"Owl! OWL! Where are you?!" Shadows race around! Something heavy is pushing on my stomach! I can't breathe! Can't see! Where is Eagle Eye? I hurt!_

_"Down here!" I try to move the weight! "Help!" Everything is dark! My throat burns! Too loud! Too much screaming! I smell blood! Mine?_

_Something is growling! Everything hurts! I can't see! "E!" Can't breathe! _

_"Owl!" I smell the burning stuff! Everything hurts! I can't see! Can't breathe!_

_No! I can breathe! The thing is gone! Ow! Breathing hurts! I can't see! "E!" Something is screaming! Everything hurts! _

_Someone is coughing! Who? Everything hurts! I can't see!_

_Something is grabbing me! Let go of me! "Owl! Stay still!" I can't see!_

_"E!" I can't see! Let go! I hurt! Someone is screaming! Too loud!_

_"Owl! I'm here! Let me carry you!" Eagle Eye! I can't see! Everything hurts! "Owl! Stay still! I'm trying to help!"_

_Everything hurts! I can't see! _

* * *

"Aaah!" Ow! My head hits a branch as I throw myself away from my attacker. Wait? Branch? I take in air hard and fast, the terror slowly draining away. Right, branch; tarp; tent; forest. Exhale; inhale. O-kay. I'm safe. NOT at the lab. Exhale. Not trapped under a piece of cement. Inhale. Just a nightmare. Again. Exhale, slowly. Stupid scientists. Inhale again. Exhale.

I was about eight then. Caught once again by some stealthy Erasers. Two months of hurting and experimentation went by. I kept waiting for Eagle Eye and Dark Wing to come save me, but they just never showed up. I lost hope. Then all of a sudden, the next thing I knew, everything was chaos and pain. Smoke everywhere. Something on top of me, crushing me. Screams of agony mixed with shouts of anger. The smell of blood mixed with the smell of fire. Every part of my body hurt. A week later I woke up in somebody's attic, Eagle Eye looking at me in worry and guilt. She said that some escaped experiment had blown up the building, causing a part of the wall to land on me. She said I had been wrapped in the sharp remains of my mangled and broken cage, and I was lucky to be alive. I can't remember anything but the pain and panic.

My watch beeps, and I spare it a glance. Exactly six-thirty. I snort. Not my favorite kind of alarm to wake up to. Oh, well. Off to the trailer park, and school from there.

* * *

"…owl?" …huh? "Ms. Dowel." uhn… "Ms. Dowel, would you care to recount the plotline of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_ for the class?" …mm? "I assume you've already read and memorized everything this course has gone over since you have the time to nap." Oops! My eyes quickly open the rest of the way. Stupid owl genes.

I sit up in my chair and try to cover my yawn. "Sorry, Ms. Jackson."

"Please wait until summer vacation before you start destroying your sleep schedule. I'm sure you can last another week and a half."

"Sorry." My Literary Analysis teacher stares at me with pursed lips a moment longer, then continues on with the semester review. Man, I can't wait until summer. I could go to bed at four in the morning, get up at one in the afternoon, and not have to worry about getting in trouble for dozing off… _Yaaawwwnnnn_… But for now, I need to focus on staying awake until school lets out. Not gonna be easy, but I'll swing it.

* * *

Off go the classroom lights, though I can still see perfectly fine. I have to admit, certain aspects of owl genetics do have their pluses. Like having eyes meant for nocturnal creatures. I still hate the instinct to sleep in the daytime, but being able to see in just about any level of darkness is a good thing. It makes it easier to spot stalkers and stuff at night.

"Alright, everybody. Your projects are due today. Who would like to show the class your movie first?"

Several hands shoot up, including the Bern twins'. I have this gut feeling that someone is staring at me, but I don't want to turn back to see who it is. Turning around after a teacher asks about due assignments is basically like holding up a sign that says "I don't have anything to turn in; please call on somebody else!" Of course, that would basically guarantee that the teacher would call on me, and I really don't need that. So I'll just ignore the eyes burning into the back of my skull for now. I mean, it's not like I should have any reason to fear any of my class mates. My wings are squeezed tightly to my back, and the only way someone could see them would be with X-ray vision. And I'm almost positive I'm the only non-human being in here. …Right?

"Ashley King." Mrs. Jonas nods towards my grinning classmate and heads for her desk chair. She doesn't need to explain the process of turning in a movie to anyone; we've all done it numerous times over the semester.

Ashley strides up to the "turn in" laptop next to my desk, plugs her flash drive in, and clicks the file. The projector in the back of the room whirs to life, and everybody gets quiet.

* * *

Wow. Looking at some of these videos, you wouldn't easily guess the topic was "heroism". In the past half-hour, Superman has died twice, Ali Babba had a three-minute food fight with the forty thieves, some guy named "Ultra-Dude" did the Hamster Dance on a robber's face, and a demon did a thumb-war with an angel. Come _on_, people! Ashley's musical ninja-teenagers video was better than that! Jeez!

"Tiffany Annika."

I clap with everyone else. Tiff always does cool videos, without going over the top like the Twins. She starts with weird ideas during planning but the finished products are better than expected. This will be interesting, at the least.

-- The color red fills the screen, but the camera quickly zooms out to show Spiderman, pointing a hand outward in the well-known web-slinging position. Another character appears next to him: a little green boy with fangs and furry bat ears. A word flashes onto the space below the two, and a deep, echoing voice announces,

_"Animal!"_

A black line strikes diagonally across the screen, then widens and splits apart, revealing a new picture: a young man, toned muscles flexing, grimaces and turns to face the viewer. A large, black scar covers the entire left side of his face. A fat old man, expression calm and calculating, steps up next to the teenager. The two punch simultaneously toward the ground, flames erupting from their fists. The ashes make up a word, again announced by that deep voice:

_"Fire!"_

The display flashes white quickly, and when the light fades, another image: a huge, chunky orange man stomps forward, shoving his rocky shoulder out in a threatening way. A boy in a blue jacket suddenly falls into view, punching the ground as he lands. The picture vibrates, as if the camera's being shaken. The screen breaks like glass, and the cracks form a word:

_"Strength!"_

The screen blinks, and becomes divided into three parts. In each section, two people. The voice announces,

_"Each team will have to complete four dangerous tasks, and earn as many points as possible! The fifth, and final, task shall fall upon the two teams with the highest scores! This task shall be a duel, in which the losers will have to take a swim in hot lava, and the winners shall RULE THE WORLD! Let the tournament BEGIN!"_--

Ooh! Fun! I join with rest of my peers cheering the teams on, and "boo" whenever Team Fire loses points. It's like an eight-minute game show, with everybody having favorites, and nobody caring about "inside voices" anymore.

…It's weird, but every time the green Animal kid changes forms, I get that feeling of being stared at again. I look behind me for a second, but everyone is too focused on the movie to even notice my existence. Something is nagging at the back of my mind, but I just can't figure it out. Is it instinct? Or am I just being paranoid about the fact that I'm an animalistic humanoid surrounded by humans? Hmm…

* * *

**So, watcha think? **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey y'all! I finally broke through WB long enough to make a new chapter! Woo! Special thanks to the people who made suggestions and kicked my lazy butt into gear! You know who you are, but the list is too long for my still-lazy person to write down...**

**Still not owning anything. Wishing I did, but unless JP decides to give me story rights as a very-belated sweet sixteenth birthday present, I probably never will own anything beyond Frii and Tiff. Yes, I know it's a depressing thought. **

**Anywho, enjoy!**

* * *

BZZZZZZZZT!

"Alright, we're out of time. The rest of you will present your videos tomorrow. Dismissed!"

I yawn and head for the door. After Tiff's video everything got boring, and I've really been fighting my instinct to fall asleep. I look around, and notice her absence. Odd…

* * *

Okay, something is definitely up. Either Tiffany's been avoiding me all day, or she's developed the power of invisibility. And since I'm almost positive she's human, the latter idea is highly improbable.

* * *

Finally! The end of the school day! Now I can get to work, constantly repeat, "Do you want fries with that?" for a few hours, and then I've got a whole night of nothing to do but relax. Around lunchtime I just decided to do the video of angel-me battling red Eraser-demon for a toddler's soul. I'm not going to stress over it anymore. It'll get me a passing grade.

"Frii!" Rob comes charging at me like a dog that's spent a week away from his owner. I force myself not to jump into defense-mode. I've learned not to beat the crud out of quick-moving people without proof of dark intentions. Not all humans want to kill the freak; at least that's what I've been telling myself since I started my "normal" life. But still, the reflexes are natural, considering.

"What?"

He puffs for a bit as he tries to catch his breath. "Listen, I'm really sorry I blew up at you yesterday. I know you like to keep your home life private and all that. I just thought, since we've been friends for two years now, maybe you'd trust us more. But I guess I can't force you to do something you don't want to."

I wait a few seconds to see if he'll continue, and then ask, "And you didn't tell me this at first, fifth, or sixth period because?"

"Well… I guess you just looked like you were preoccupied with some other stuff and I…didn't really want to bring it up."

I lift an eyebrow, but decide not to push it. Time to change the subject.

"No," Rob replies to my query. "I don't know what's up with Tiff. I enjoyed her video in DMM and tried to compliment her, but she wouldn't talk to me in any of the classes we share or at lunch. She's normally so chatty, but she hasn't said a word to me all day." He starts heading for the lone maple tree in the small park behind the school. He and Tiff say they've been climbing it since elementary school, and that's generally where we go on sunny days to meet up and make plans.

"Same here. Any clue as to why that may be?"

He shrugs. "Maybe she's mad at us or something?"

"For what?"

Another shrug. "I dunno. Fighting? I haven't seen her this way since kindergarten when I threw up in her lunchbox." Oh, yeah! I remember that story! A six year old boy with black hair had been chucking smushed brownies at him and saying they were "doggy doodies". Little Billy's weak stomach gave in and he hurled in the nearest container he could find—a pink Barbie lunch pail. Little Tiffany had silently glared at him for at least a week. Heh heh heh. Wish I could've been there…

"So what do we do? Just wait for her to get over whatever it is she's bugging at?" I may be attending a normal school and stuff, but dealing with human emotional tendencies is still out of my league. The Nazis stopped the tormenting of Jews and such a long time ago (I'm not sure exactly when, but I should probably find out before I have to take the semester test in history tomorrow…) so I doubt any present-day humans have felt what I have. Not only are these people completely on a different mental and physical level than I am, they're also on a different emotional level as well. How do you comfort someone who thinks that a minor spat between friends and a lack of conditioner is a serious crisis? As far as I can tell, that kind of thing should be the least of our problems.

"I don't know. If she's mad at us then it would probably be safer to stand back until she's cooled off and then apologize. But if she's worried about something or hurt, then we should see how we can help. But since I don't know which…" Rob sighs and drops to his heels in the shade, resting against the sturdy trunk. I jump and, grabbing a thick branch, nimbly swing up onto it. I quickly get into my favorite position: hanging knees over the wide, low branch, and leaning my upper back on a higher branch.

Propping my elbows up on my improvised back rest, I ask, "What if you invite her over to your house, and see how she reacts?"

"Why me?"

"After last night, do you really want to try and suggest we take her to my place?"

"Well…" I ready the death glare. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. Bringing you guys over, I mean. I was hoping to have a movie night already, so a change in plans towards that being tonight might not be that bad of an idea."

I nod and check my watch. "Wake me up when you find her."

Eyes closed, I hear movement, and Rob's voice comes from a few yards away. "Kay."

* * *

"Hey, Frii! _WAKE UP!_"

"WhoWhatHuh?!" OW! Rubbing my hip from my not-so-graceful exit from the tree, I stand up and narrow my eyes at Rob's laughing face. You'd think, being part bird, I wouldn't fall out of trees all that much. But no. Super-human strength, sight, and speed I do have, but when it comes to balance, especially when I'm startled, I'd be better off on the ground or a couple thousand feet in the air.

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Shut it, Billy." Now it's his turn to glare. Looking behind him, I wave. "Hey, Tiff. Sweet vid." I quirk a sly smile and add, "Although it would have been better if Team Fire had won."

She looks at me for a few seconds like she thinks I'm going to bite her head off. "Uh, thanks. I'm…glad you liked it." Hmm…

"So, we going to Rob's for a movie night?"

She shrugs. "I guess."

"Cool. But it will have to be a short one; I have work tonight."

Trying to look anywhere but at me, she replies, "Um, okay. But I'll need I ride home afterwards, then. My mom started a yoga class, and it doesn't end until six o'clock or so."

"I can walk you home," I volunteer. "Your house isn't that far from BK."

Tiff jerks and adopts a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look (or at least that's how I've heard such an expression be described as before; I don't ride cars very often, much less in areas where deer live). "That's okay! I mean, uh, I probably can't walk that far anyway! Even an escort couldn't make me more athletic! So, um, maybe I could just catch a ride with Rob, right!" That was too fast of a response. I'm obviously the one she's avoiding; though why she wouldn't talk to Rob all day either is beyond me.

"Desperate not to be around Frii, much?" Rob caught it too. "Or just desperate not to walk?" Well I really hadn't thought about that…But still, even if she is just being lazy, that wouldn't explain why she's been avoiding us.

* * *

That was an interesting afternoon. We watched a movie about some magical cat that could become human when he wore boots, and then Rob's older sister came in and started blaring strange music on the radio. I have to admit, some of the songs were pretty good. If I had to pick a theme song for my life, I'd probably pick one of them.

Then I had to leave for work, and Tiffany couldn't find anybody to give her a ride. So now I'm walking with a jittery nervous wreck. Every time I try to start a conversation, she jumps like she thinks I'm going to attack her, makes a pitiful excuse for a response, and then stops talking again. So I finally just gave up and we fell into an awkward silence. It doesn't exactly fit into my earlier plan of relaxation, but what can ya do?

"Hey, Frii?" I take it the silence is about to end. Finally.

"Yeah?"

"Frii, you know you can trust me with anything, right?" Umm… As long as it's not about my wings or my past.

"Yeah…" I raise my eyebrows and look at her through the corners of my eyes in an expression that should clearly say, "Where are you going with this?"

"And I can trust you, right?"

"Of course." I hesitate and add, "Tiff, what's wrong? Why are you asking me this?"

She bites her lip and studies me for a moment. (No, not _study_. That word gives me the creeps when it's not about schoolwork. She's _looking_ at me.) "Well, you see, I, uh…"

Rolling my eyes, I grunt a bit and tell her to spit it out.

Tiff takes a deep breath and says, "Are those pictures you always draw real?"

I jolt a little. "What are you talking about?" I squeak, then clear my throat and continue, "What makes you think werewolves and all that other stuff could possibly be real?" I'm going to avoid reminding her that my drawings also include winged people.

"Nothing!" She definitely said that too quickly for it to be just idle curiosity! Oh no…

She stops and stares at her feet. "I…sort of followed you yesterday…after you lost your temper and stormed off…"

Code red! All systems on high alert!

Gritting my teeth and getting ready to make a run for it, I force myself to reply, "And…?"

She sighs, "If you were a werewolf, would you know it?" Well, that's definitely not what I expected her to say. I expected something more along the lines of "HOW THE HECK DID YOU GET WINGS, YOU FREAK?!" But apparently I was wrong.

"Did I ever give you any reason to think I have a tail and howl at the moon?" Keep her focused on the werewolves, in case she actually does have some evidence that I'm not completely human. Up until the moment I have to rip off my hoody and disappear, that's my game plan. Not that she's indicating that this might, in any way, be just a game.

"Well, not exactly…" I watch her, showing no emotions at all. Even though I'm on the verge of a panic attack. Finally, Tiff cracks and it all comes out in one big rush: "I wanted to catch up to you and see why you were so upset but then I got lost and some old lady told me that monsters like werewolves with wings run around at night and I didn't believe her but then I turned around and saw a person grow wings and then I freaked out and the person saw me and called me by my name and it sounded like you but then they flew away and I ran in the opposite direction until I found a donut shop and used their phone and my mom came and picked me up and when I came to school you didn't seem different at all so I thought I was wrong but then I saw some of your drawings and realized I might have been right and I was scared and didn't know what to say so I avoided you but then Rob came and found me and then I had to walk home with you and I don't know what to do!"

I blink and take a few seconds to process all the information. Then it hits me: When I dreamed Tiff found out and I flew away—! Holy hamburgers, that wasn't a dream!! She _SAW_!!! I start running backward, fumbling with my hoody and trying to find the wing slots. I'd just pull it off, but I'd prefer to see if she's going to take a weapon or something and attack me. Last time someone figured out my family's lack of human DNA, he grabbed a broken beer bottle and gave Dark Wing a nasty scar and a few broken tendons on the back of his hand. I'd rather get away a few seconds later with complete ability to pick things up than to get away immediately with the need to become a cyborg bird kid. Not that it would be bad to get away immediately while still retaining all of my body parts, though.

"Frii! Wait!"

"No! I will not be put into a cage again!" I growl, finally giving up on ejecting my wings and just turning to run full speed away. "Go tell the media! Your best friend is a _freak_! I'm sure they'll pay you a lot for the story! But I _won't_ stick around to be experimented on _again_!"

* * *

**So, whatcha think? Working on chapter nine as fast as I can! Still appreciating any comments, suggestions, and reviews!**

**Anyone think I need more details on my characters, mainly Frii? I wonder what you guys imagine she looks like? Large parts of the next two chapters rely on her looks, but my lack of details has made me slightly forget some of what I had put in my original character profile, which I've lost. Could you please review or PM with how you would view her? Include hight, hair color, eye color, hair style, and general clothing colors, please. I obviously can't force you, but it would be really great if you did, and it would help me update faster!**

**And thanks for reading my story!!**


	9. Chapter 9

**FINALLY UPDATED IT! Sorry for the long wait everyone!**

"_Frii! Wait!"_

_"No! I will not be put into a cage again!" I growl, finally giving up on ejecting my wings and just turning to run full speed away. "Go tell the media! Your best friend is a_ freak_! I'm sure they'll pay you a lot for the story! But I won't stick around to be experimented on _again_!"_

* * *

About a mile later, I finally slow down. Glancing around to make sure there won't be any spectators, I remove my hoody and spread my wings. I move them around a bit to stretch them out, and then do a running take off. As I race the breeze to my tent, my mind takes me back to the previous night.

Man, how could I be so _stupid_?! I mean, yeah the people who live on that street just hide all night, so they generally don't see me, or if they do, then they run and hide. A rogue Eraser tried to attack the town once, but he wasn't much of a fight. His wings were lopsided, oversized, and missing several feathers, and one of his legs looked like that of a chicken.. The patchwork dummy wasn't any sort of a match for twenty-something people with kitchen knives and golf bats (it was the present-day version of a mob with clubs and pitchforks). He escaped, with a last remark of "Wait until I get my pack! We'll come when you least expect it!" Which, of course, the humans were dumb enough to believe. Itex would never have purposely kept one Eraser like that alive, much less use an entire group of them.. Anyway, I was waiting around in a nearby alley when I heard the shouting. Since the people pretty much had it under control, I decided not to make myself known. Now they're all inside well before sun down, so I've gotten a bit lazy, I guess—

Which, again, is very _very_ _stupid_! I live most of my life in a cage, endure years of torture, and watch both of the people I cared about die, and yet I _still_ haven't got the sense to make absolutely sure nobody's watching! Jeez!

Punching a branch in frustration, I land in the woods that are my "home". Or was my home, I should say. The minute Tiffany tells everybody about the escaped genetic experiment from the recently-destroyed Itexicon, there's going to be hunters and journalists and picture-seekers and scientists and vets and who knows what else strip searching the entire state for me. Considering the speed she runs and the nearest phone, I have about…an hour before the helicopter gets here from the big city.

I dump my textbooks and homework out of my backpack (I'm obviously NOT going back to school, so why keep them?) and start stuffing my clothes, edible stuff, and money haphazardly inside. After zipping it closed, I wrap the blanket around the pack, and then the tarp around the blanket. Lastly, I use bungee cords to tie it all together. The sheets don't exactly fit, and this way the cloud water won't soak everything inside and rot what's left of those burgers. This isn't exactly my first time blowing the secret on a foggy night. And when I say foggy, I mean fifteen hundred feet above ground. The humans are going to experience about seventy- to eighty-degree temperatures, with very slight drizzle and few winds. And no, I did not get that from watching TV or listening to a radio. Meteorology ain't got nothin' on me. I've flown through many a different weather condition, so I've developed a few animalistic senses, including weather prediction. I can feel the slightest change in air pressure, I know how humid the air is getting, and after a few uses of Dark Wing's power, I also learned how to estimate the amount of electric charge in the air. But unlike cows and stuff, I don't lie down when I sense rain. I'm still 95% human, after all; I do have more brains than instinct, whatever the scientists may say.

* * *

Tiffany POV

Puffing from exhaustion, I stop and stand in the street. I'll never catch up with her. When I brought up my idea that Frii isn't human, she freaked out. Her sweatshirt was moving around like when she had started growing wings last night, but nothing stuck out. Then she ran off faster than a race horse. I don't know why she didn't fly this time; maybe she couldn't. I don't know if it would take a large amount of energy or time to change on purpose. I'm no expert on magical beings.

Anyway, beyond having animal parts, something really weird I noticed is that even though she has wings and may even be a werewolf, she didn't act like she would or even could hurt me. She looked all terrified, and fled both times before I got a chance to say or do anything. And the last thing she said before she disappeared really confuses me. What did she mean, "again"? Who would put her in a cage? I mean, yeah, she sometimes has wings, but she's still a person! And why would her family let anyone treat her that way? She hasn't said much about them, but what she has told me makes it seem unlikely they would ever let someone treat her with anything less than kindness and respect. It just doesn't make any sense!

Growling in frustration, I start for home. At least this time I have an idea about which way to go.

Fifteen minutes later, I move the doormat and put the retrieved key in the lock. Yes, I know it's not the safest place to hide it, but I tend to lose small items if I carry them around with me. I go inside and yell, "Anybody home?"

"Doo bro'sh and ta shish!" The answer comes from the kitchen. "Pikza's almosht gone." I walk in and grab an apple. I never was one for cheese or excessive grease.

"Hey, Tyler."

My brother ignores the pizza sauce dripping down his chin and replies, "Hullo." He swallows, then continues, "Where've you been? You missed Millionaire!"

"I was at Rob's house watching a movie. Why?" I take a bite and chew for a bit.

Ty shrugs. "Meh. I was just wondering."

Tossing my half-eaten fruit in the trash, I tell him, "You can get back to stuffing your face now."

"Laker." I roll my eyes, leave the kitchen, and head up stairs.

"Tina? You in your room?"

"Yeah," my little sister says as she opens her door. "I'm just watching the news. Did you need me for something?"

My eyebrows go up. Generally when elementary school students have their own personal televisions in their bedrooms, they watch Nick and Disney. But Tina… "Since when did eleven year olds watch the news?" She turns around and sits back down on her bed. I go in after her and close the door behind me.

"Since a web journal I've been reading started a revolution that's become famous in the whole world." She motions for me to stop talking and turns the volume up. I follow her gaze to her TV and watch with her.

"…Very sad day for a very large group of recently rescued genetic experiments. Records obtained from the company, Itex, show that almost half of these children's families were killed when they were first taken to the facilities. Only two percent have living family members that show chances of caring, much less loving them. Twenty-three percent were sold to the scientists by their own parents, averaging for between fifty dollars and fifteen thousand dollars, and the rest were the children of the scientists themselves, bred for the specific purpose of being turned into super-soldiers. What is worse, these percentages only account for the living captives. The records also indicate that more than seventy-nine percent of all experiments created in the past eighty years either were killed, purposefully or accidentally, or committed suicide. The pain endured by these captives is inestimable, and many of the living are still unwilling to even consider the idea that not all humans wish them harm. Marrian Janssen, the Director of Itex, is facing a life sentence for infinite crimes against humanity and nature. By her own admission, she is known to be part sea turtle, so she is expected to spend the next three hundred years or so in captivity very similar to that which she kept her experiments. Please dial the number on your screen if you wish to make a contribution to Provision for the Involuntarily Evolved, a new charity organization aimed toward helping these unfortunate souls, who number to over five-thousand known experiments. I'm Karie Martin, International News."

"See?" says Tina. "Fang already said a lot of this stuff, but he couldn't say the exact numbers. He started the revolution against Itex, and now we finally get the details."

I blink, and try to shrug away a sense of foreboding. "Fang? Who's that?"

"He's a birdkid that escaped from Itex a few years back." I jump at the word _birdkid_. "He and his flock have been flying around the world trying to stay alive and trying to stop the scientists from taking over the world."

"Birdkid? Flock?"

"Ya. He's ninety-eight percent human, two percent bird. He has black wings, bird bones, bird eyes, and other bird-stuff. Part kid, part bird. Bird-kid."

My head starts reeling with the information. "And his flock?"

"Five other birdkids that escaped with him and made their own make-shift family. The leader is Max, Maximum Ride. She's the leader. And there's Iggy, the blind one. And the Gasman. And Nudge, and Angel. Since they're all part bird, they call the family the Flock."

"Do any of them have real families?"

"They _are_ a real family. Just a different kind than most people are used to thinking about."

I shake my head, "No. I mean, do they know who their parents are?"

Her face takes on a look of concentration. "I think Max does, but I don't think she likes them. I'm not really sure. Fang didn't say much about it on his blog. Iggy ranted about how horrible his family was once. I'm not sure about the rest." Suddenly, she turns and stares at me. "Why?"

"No reason!" I probably said that too quick… "I'm just trying to wrap my head around it all. It just seems like something out of a science fiction book. Too crazy to be real, you know?" Please believe it…

She nods. "Yeah, I know. But it is real. It's horrible what those scientists did to the kids, but now they can't hurt them anymore, so that's good."

"Yeah," I say distractedly. It's all coming together now… "I'm just gonna go to bed now. Good night."

"Night."

As I slink down the hall to my room, I continue to mentally connect the dots. Every time I asked Frii about her family, she always got defensive and vaguely told me her family wasn't worth talking about. Maybe that's because she didn't _have_ a family, or even because she was one of the children sold to the scientists. That would be horrible. And all those drawings…the angels… Those were probably pictures of _her_ flock. But they all looked like they were young enough to be in school too. How come I never saw them around?

I close my door behind me and look around. Pink walls, white metal bed and dresser, purple sheets, and lots of animal posters greet me in their usual colorful chaos. My sea shell collection on a shelf in the corner shimmers from the moving light above it, and a gentle aroma drifts over from the scented, plastic flowers on the windowsill. I never had the patience or attention span to keep real plants and animals alive, so I make do with pictures and models.

I plop down on my bed and continue thinking about Frii. Pieces of information come drifting back: _"Flying around the world and trying to stay alive"… "Either were killed or committed suicide…"_ Killed or committed suicide… Frii's flock… _That's_ why I've never seen any siblings. They probably died before I even met her! She's all alone in the world. And the terror when I told her I found out… _"Many of the living experiments are unwilling to consider the idea that not all humans wish them harm."_ What she said before she disappeared… _"Go tell the media! Your best friend is a_ freak_! I'm sure they'll pay you a lot for the story! But I won't stick around to be experimented on _again_!"_ She was honestly convinced I would turn her in for fame and fortune. She thinks I would let her become a guinea pig for another curious and higher-than-thou scientist just because she isn't 100% human… And I didn't really give her a reason to believe otherwise. I saw her wings and automatically assumed she was a monstrous werewolf that I should be afraid of. I am ashamed of myself. She only wants to stay out of a cage or even just a lab in general, away from staring people. She wants to stay free—

Wait a minute! Free… Frii… Dowel? Free Dowel? Maybe her parent's last name was Dowel. No, that doesn't make sense. If she made up a first name, why keep the original last name? Free Dowel… Free… Freed Owl! Her bird genetics must come from an owl! Fang… Angel… Maximum…The Gasman… Regular words used as simple names there. Why—oh wait. Freed Owl is simple enough too. She probably just changed it to Frii Dowel to make it less obvious when she signed up for school. That makes sense.

But why would an escaped experiment, who fears for her life and has the ability to fly where ever she wants, go to school in the first place? Staying in one area for very long would make it easier for the scientists to find her, probably. Tina said something about Fang's flock trying to stop the scientists—Itex?—from taking over the world. And the news lady said that the experiments were created to be super soldiers. So they would most likely want to stop any and all escapees from telling anyone about their plans. They would want to capture and/or kill any experiment that got out. So she definitely wouldn't expect them to just let her go and not try to find her. Why stay in one place for so long?

Oh, hey, now that I think about it, it's possible she _couldn't_ leave. When I finally got the courage to talk about it, her back was shrugging around, but she didn't eject her wings and fly away. She turned and ran instead. Maybe there are only certain times she can actually fly. If that's true, she probably couldn't walk from town to town or hitchhike without catching the attention of the police and truancy officers. Going to school would be the easiest way to blend in and stay off-radar.

Stretching, I pull out my pajamas and get ready for bed. I'll ask her about it in the morning. I hope I can find a way to keep her from panicking again.

* * *

As I drift off, one last thought jumps into my mind: _She thinks I'm going to turn her in. She thinks her life is in danger. How do I know she'll even come to school tomorrow?_

_Crap._

**Hope you liked it! Please review! As usual, questions, comments, concerns, and constructive criticisms are always welcome!**


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